Mind Lost
by Shirohonoo
Summary: What happens when Mal is trapped within the confines of Mikes head once more as he was before? How does he coup with such a thing, and how does he exact his plans to get out and cause chaos once more?


**Mind Lost**

Darkness spanned across the expanses of a room. Empty, cold, desolate- expect for the slightest twitch that showed through the murkiness of the chamber. It was small, insignificant; something that would be passed off for nothing with the slightest glance upon it. The catalyst sparked other movements however- fingers that had found themselves awaken soon turned to an arm, and movement metamorphisized into sounds. The slightest groaning penetrated the air as uncomfortable waking dawned itself upon the creator of the noises. Awareness had yet to appear to the male within the confines of his location. "_What the ….._" Words that barely surpassed silence managed to conjure themselves from the mouth of the owner, apparently forced and hard to deliver.

_Rattling_

Managing to find the strength to move his body much further than he had earlier, he is snapped into once vacant consciousness, which had only been present in the smallest of fraction to this minute. Maroon eyes darted to the wrists, held tightly by the unforgiving grasps of metal. A tug was given upon them, as if sheer strength would pry them free. Repetition did not yield any positive results, only resulting in laughing from the chains as the other tried futile attempt after attempt to break free of his bindings. His body felt nothing- no strain, no pain, not a thing. His mind, however, screamed. It screamed rancor for his situation. His body pooled with it- it was the only thing his body in its nonphysical state could feel now. "_Oh no, I am __**not**__ being treated to this shit again_!" The malice of these words made the coldness of the stone surrounding this being minimal in comparison. Not one to often use vulgarity, the fact that he had strung that into his sentence was well enough an expression of his emotions itself.

Arms fell back to his side as he gave up upon his items of confinement in defeat. He knew it was pointless. His reign of control was over. The grasp he had managed to secure on the body that was the vessel to the personalities such as himself had slipped, and he had ended up here once more. This spire which had served as his castle of power was now his prison. Such was cruel irony. Although the location was no different, changes had been made- chains had never been a part of his restraint, as he had been given free roam of the tiny cell inside this mind before. There was no window anymore- no way to see 'outside' into the landscapes of Mike's brain. No longer could he observe what was happening with the body. He was completely isolated. If he knew such a feeling, he assumed he would be feeling lonely or sad, but the only emotion that could come into play currently was animosity. Imprisonment was not something he was unused to, but at least the other times he could cause mayhem like he desired. Such a thing was not available to him now. "_You can't keep me here forever. You couldn't before, and you won't now."_Enmity and calmness entered his voice, much unlike the enraged yelling he had been preforming earlier. Whether the one he was speaking to would hear his words or not did not depend on the volume he spoke at. He didn't need a response- he remember the last thing that had happened before he had woken up once more in this damned cell.

"**You are not coming back ever again Mal.**"

How could he have won? Even if the odds had been four to one, his power had been far greater than all them before. And the final fight for control ended up nothing more than him versus his 'creator', who had appeared far too weak to beat him through the entire thing. So how was it possible the tables could have turned so much?

_Thwump_

A fist fell sharply upon the concrete floor, fueled by frustration. Dust scattered, only to settle again. His fingers found themselves wrapped around the form of an object- one that would appear nothing of importance, but those rust shaded eyes recognized it. His eyes moved from the sharpened rock in his hand to the various drawing marking the walls- a feat that would have been impossible if portions of the wall between stones were not made out of a type of tissue, seeing as the subconscious resembled a surreal version of the average human brain. The artwork was unnecessary, as he would remember every plan he had without them, but it was more to keep his hands busy when he needed more than just his mind occupied. The chains kept him from touching the walls now, so his focus was directed towards portions of the floor this time around.

A sadistic smile crawled its way onto his lips as he looked upon the small, rough drawing that had been made into the surface of the ground. This was followed by a vicious chuckle.

"_I hope you like the present I left you, Mike._"

From his pocket he retrieved an item. A flower, large and fake, meant to simply be an accessory was crumpled within his palm. By the light of the pulsing particles within the walls, he observed the hair piece before pinning it next to the picture with the jagged rock. Chaos would ensue, even if he was not in control. Even if he was not able to watch it happen, he could always listen to it. Screams and yells had a way of carrying across even the subconscious.

How he anticipate such a sound.


End file.
